372 Days
by miamoretti
Summary: It took Killian Jones 372 days to find her and 7 days to make Emma Swan remember who she was. (General T rating but M Rating for Chapter 6)
1. Familiar

**372 Days**

* * *

**Chapter One - Familiar**

* * *

It took Killian Jones 372 days to find her and he would spend however long it took to make Emma Swan remember who she was. Who she _is_.

But what was a year and one week in the scheme of it all? He was more than three centuries old and, other than Milah, Emma Swan was the only woman who had ever made him _feel_. He would go to the ends of the earth to find her (or in his case, cross realms) and there was no way he was about to let some pesky memory loss get in the way of true love.

He'd lost it once and this time he wouldn't let it go. After their parting words three-hundred-and-seventy-two long days ago (and he'd counted every one of them), he was utterly convinced that the memory loss was indeed the only thing keeping them apart now.

Night after night, he'd hear her voice in his dreams, see her beautiful face and hear her whisper that one word that had made his heart stop. Good. _Good._

Before they even knew about the side effects of this new curse, she'd given him permission to keep her in his heart, had encouraged him not to give up on her even though they were being separated indefinitely. She had accepted his feelings for her and in doing so, had given herself permission to _want_ that.

He hadn't known what to expect when he'd told her, with a bold expression of pure honesty and vulnerability on his face, that he would think of her every day. He certainly hadn't dared to hope for anything more than her brushing him off. So when a single, soft word, "_good_", fell from her lips, the unadulterated joy that had beamed from his face had even made her smile a little.

That word, and that smile, had kept him going for more than a year. In a world he knew very little about, the wonders of which never ceased to fascinate, startle and surprise him, Killian Jones had found her.

All the plans he'd carefully crafted, all the advice from Snow and Charming (and even Regina), and all the carefully rehearsed scenes he'd played through in his head had all gone straight out of the window when the door of apartment 311 had opened and she'd been stood before him once again. None of his dreams had even come close to the way it felt, the relief of it all, to be stood right in front of Emma again.

In that moment it didn't even matter that she had no idea who he was. Just a devilishly handsome man dressed head-to-toe in pirate leathers, saying her name like it was the only thing keeping him alive. And in the time they'd been apart, she pretty much had been the only thing keeping him alive.

"_Swan..._"

He didn't know if he was being overly optimistic or naively hopeful, but he was certain he saw a flash of _something_ cross her face as their eyes met. Recognition? Familiarity? Maybe just confusion. His attire wasn't exactly screaming 'native New Yorker', after all...but his small spark of hope remained.

He stepped across the threshold to her apartment and the euphoria of having her stood in front of him once again was dizzying. Her hand shot up to hold him back, momentary fear and further confusion etched into her pretty face and her stance becoming defensive. Her maternal instincts had kicked in and no matter how _familiar_ he was, her son's safety was the only thing she could care about.

His eyes bore into hers, willing her to _know him_.

"Do I know you?"

Her whole body buzzed with adrenaline and she couldn't shake that..._feeling_. She couldn't name it or understand it, nor did she feel able to trust her own instincts that were telling her that this man in front of her was _good._

She'd hear him out.

"Look, I need your help," she raised her eyebrows in surprise and he continued, his eye contact never wavering, "Something's happened. Something terrible. Your family is in trouble."

She consciously schooled her expression into a hard glare, words as cold and unimpressed as her eyes.

"My family is right here. _Who are you?_"

He didn't even miss a beat, returning her gaze unwaveringly, but his eyes were soft and pleading. _Remember me. See that I'm telling the truth_. That gaze made her stomach flip. He couldn't possibly know about her 'super power'. He couldn't possibly know she was practically a human lie detector...could he?

"An old friend."

And there wasn't an ounce of a lie in his words.

"Look," he shifted nervously, edging slightly closer to her, "I know you can't remember me, but...I can make you."

And before she even had chance to realize what was happening, his lips were descending on hers. Instinctively, she lifted her lips to meet his, her body responding to him without her permission. As though her body knew something her mind didn't. His lips felt like adventure and memories and _hope. _His hand cradling her head, fingers tangled in her hair...why did he feel so familiar?

As he moved forward and claimed her lips, Killian felt his heart beat again. He felt the breath enter his lungs and his heart slam against his chest, feelings he'd been missing for a year.

In a split second, her mind took back the control her body had momentarily snatched away, and she brought her knee up, delivering a sharp blow to a certain precious area of his anatomy. He reeled back and she pushed him back out of her doorway, pain evident on his far-too-handsome features. Too bad he was clearly insane, because he was really damn hot. And leather wasn't even her thing.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

She demanded, wondering what on earth had possessed him to try such a move...and wondering why it had felt so _right_ to have his lips on hers again. Wait, _again_? What? Blinking to clear the fog suddenly clouding her mind, she looked down at him, doubled over in pain.

"A long shot. I had to try."

Her heart was racing and she was shaking a little, from the kiss or the shock of it all, she wasn't quite sure. Her hand braced flat against the door, she stared at him.

"I was hoping you felt as I did."

He knew, deep down, that it wouldn't work. There was no magic in this world, as Snow and Charming had told him countless times, and she had no memory of him. Snow had warned him against the stupid move he'd just barrelled in and tried. But he knew there was no way he could have seen her and _not_ wanted to kiss her. All rational thought had left him the moment his gaze had fallen on her.

Emma Swan was his True Love, of that he was sure. So sure that he'd risked life and limb (literally) just to give it a shot. Charming had told him, before he'd left the Enchanted Forest, of the time Snow had beat the living shit out of him when she'd lost her memory and he'd boldy planted one on her in an attempt to break the curse.

Part of Killian had known it wouldn't work but he also knew he couldn't have walked away from her without _trying_. The way she was looking at him now though...she clearly thought he was completely insane. She moved to close to door.

Wincing through the searing pain in his groin, he pushed himself to his feet and pleaded with her.

"Look, I know this seems crazy, but you have to listen to me! You have to remem-"

And the door was closed in his face, the three big letters firmly telling him that his first attempt had been a big fat failure.

But Killian Jones had not spent a year finding her to just give up. It would take time, of that he was sure. He didn't care how long it took, she _would _remember. And he'd make sure he was the one to help her do so.


	2. Fairytales

**372 Days**

* * *

**Chapter Two – Fairytales**

* * *

Emma couldn't shake the nervous energy that had stuck with her all day, ever since that Pirates of the Caribbean wannabe had shown up at her door during breakfast with his piercing baby blues and too-soft lips. The unnerving familiarity of him had set her on edge. Why did her body seem to know him, to want to respond to him, while her mind just whirred with confusion? She couldn't even rationalize how their paths could have possibly crossed. She'd taken Henry to Disney World once, but that's as close as either of them had been to anything resembling a pirate. And she was _sure_ she would have remembered him if they'd ever met before.

"You okay, mom?"

Henry was sat opposite her at the table, homework spread around him, but he was watching her intently. He was a perceptive kid and she knew he'd been able to tell something was off that morning when she'd passed off their visitor that morning as simply someone with the wrong address. He'd let it go and headed off to school when his two friends, Jessica and Robin, from two apartment blocks over had buzzed for him from downstairs as they did each morning.

Shaking her head, Emma forced a smile and stood up, making her way over to the kitchen as she answered him.

"I'm fine, kid. Just...thinking about work stuff. I'll make you a hot chocolate."

She'd been tempted to drop Henry off at school herself that day, to make sure a certain leather-clad Bellevue patient didn't get anywhere near him, but she knew that would only raise Henry's suspicions further. The school bus stop was literally a five minute walk from their apartment building and he'd be with his two friends anyway. Not only that, but some part of her _knew_ that Mr. Tall Dark & Piratey wouldn't hurt him. Or her.

"Can I stay over at Robin's tomorrow night? It's his birthday on Saturday and his mom said she'd take us to Coney Island."

Henry's voice broke her out of her reverie once again as she stirred cocoa powder into a cup of hot milk. Swirling on whipped cream and sprinkling cinnamon over the top, she carried it over to her son.

"Yeah, sure. I want you to call me when you get to Robin's though."

He looked up at her as she set the drink down next to him, studying her carefully.

"You never usually have me call you when I'm sleeping over there. What's going on, mom?"

He really was too perceptive for his own damn good and she knew she should tell him. But how could she word it in a way that _she_ wouldn't sound like the crazy one?

_'Well, Henry, I'm just worried that our visitor from this morning will turn up again, because I don't know him but I feel like I do and some part of me is worried that you'll recognize him too and he's far too good looking to be allowed to hang around and complicate our lives. Plus, he planted one on me pretty much as soon as I opened the door so I've not completely ruled out the possibility of him being a mental patient. But no, everything's fine.'_

Shaking away her bitterly sarcastic inner-voice, she splayed her hands on the table and sighed, looking straight back at Henry, who was still waiting for her answer, intrigue and concern written all over his adorable face.

"That knock on the door at breakfast today? Well, I don't think he had the wrong address. I don't think I knew him, but he seemed to know me. Or at least, he knew my name. I suppose he could have gotten that from the mailboxes downstairs but…he just felt familiar. I know I sound crazy, but I'm just worried he'll try to talk to you and until I know who he is, I don't want that to happen."

Emma had always been honest with her son, and he'd reciprocated. She'd decided to leave out the part where a strange man had tried to get his tongue down her throat, because no twelve year old needed _that_ image of their mother, but she gave him as much truth as she saw necessary.

Henry nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of his hot chocolate.

"I won't talk to any strange men, I promise. And I'll tell you about any weirdos hanging around…but we _do_ live in New York City."

She laughed softly and ruffled his hair. She loved that dry sense of humor and his ability to easily settle her worries. She thanked a God she didn't even believe in that she hadn't given him up for adoption because she really wasn't sure what her life would be without him.

* * *

That night, Emma fell asleep in much the same way as she did every night. She finished watching whatever TV show she and Henry had decided on for that evenings, then she tucked him into bed and, even though he protested because he was "twelve now and didn't need his mom to tuck him into bed like a baby", she shushed him and simply ruffled his hair instead of kissing his forehead like she used to. Then, she retired to her own room and settled into bed, reading a couple of pages from the novel her friend Angela had gifted her with.

When she felt her eyes start to resist, she set the book on her nightstand and switched off the light, welcoming sleep willingly. But though she slept well most nights, tonight she tossed and turned, her dreams vivid and so detailed and in-depth that that more resembled memories.

Neverland, Peter Pan, Rumplestiltskin. Her parents. Lost Boys. Henry jumping down some kind of electric hole in a river with two strangers. A thick, purple cloud engulfing a tiny town, a dark haired woman ripping out hearts with her bare hands and a pretty girl in red turning into a wolf. Seven small men with axes and a giant with some beans. A sheriff's badge, a crypt, a beanstalk.

And him.

She could see him, those eyes piercing holes into her soul, and she could feel his lips against hers again, her own lips not so unwilling this time, his leather jacket under her fingertips and the intoxicating taste of him lingering in her mouth and in her heart.

She suddenly awoke with a start, ripped from her dreams and sucking in air as though she'd been suffocating. The oversized t-shirt she wore as pyjamas was damp with sweat, as was her hair. Her heart was racing as she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and gripping the mattress, willing her heart to return to its normal pace. She was trembling and wasn't sure whether it was the cool air against her sweat-soaked skin or the dreams that were causing it.

Everything had seemed so real, as though she'd lived every one of those scenes in some other world, or some other life. But they were just fairytales, how could they possibly feel like memories? Emma blinked hard in an attempt to clear her jumbled thoughts and wrapped her arms around herself. His face kept coming back into her mind. The one solid thing she knew was very, very real.

In her dreams he'd had…a hook. Her eyes widened in realization. He didn't have a perm or a waxed moustache, but he was _Captain Hook_. He had to be. When he'd shown up at her door, she hadn't paid much attention to his left hand (it was the right one that had pre-occupied her when it tangled in his hair), though in passing she'd noted that he'd held it awkwardly, as though he'd injured it. But there was definitely no hook there. Granted, walking around New York City in his leather get-up would have attracted enough attention as it was and he probably had enough common sense to realize having a weapon attached to his sleeve and on show for all to see would probably not go down very well with the authorities.

She frowned and tried to piece it all together. Nothing made sense. Fairytale characters didn't just come to life and turn up on the doorstep, rambling on about a family she didn't have being in danger. But if her dreams had any ounce of truth in them, and she was pretty sure they did even if it was impossible to understand how, then she _did_ have a family.

Usually her morning run helped clear her mind of any thoughts weighing on her, but she doubted any amount of running would lift this weight. Glancing at the clock, she sighed. It was almost 4am and even though it was true that New York City never slept, she was entirely sure going for a run at 4am would not be her wisest or safest move. She would simply have to wait a couple more hours for a civilized running time to arrive.

She wondered if she would see Hook again, because she had the distinct feeling he wasn't going to simply disappear out of her life after such a stunning entrance. She just hoped that next time their interaction could be in a public place, where she'd feel less cornered and where there were cops nearby if he tried his luck with those lips again. But if she was being honest with herself, his lips weren't exactly the worst thing to be subjected to.

Absently touching her lips, she lay back down and stared at the ceiling, waiting anxiously for sleep to claim her again. She couldn't decide whether she hoped for more dreams to add pieces to the puzzle or if she wanted to simply sleep now and chase answers later. Maybe if she really, truly needed answers, she'd have to go looking for them in the form of a leather-clad pirate.


	3. Bail

**372 Days**

* * *

**Chapter Three – Bail**

* * *

Killian had been arrested. All he'd been doing was sitting outside Emma's apartment block for a little over an hour, trying to think of ways he could get her to hear him out. He didn't see how that warranted one of her neighbors calling the police. Then they threw around words like _stalking_ and _harassment _as though he was banging on their doors or threatening to take their kids hostage. All he was doing was _thinking_.

But the cops didn't care and they hauled him away anyway, exchanging looks as they took in his attire. He stayed quiet as he was ducked into the backseat of the cop car, still mistrustful of modern vehicles but choosing not to comment on that.

As the car pulled away, he glanced back at the building and his heart skipped, the way it only ever did when he saw Emma. He turned and kept his eyes on her for as long as possible, willing her to catch sight of him. As the car rounded a corner sharply, he jolted sidewards and his shoulders slumped.

"You get out of Bellevue or something, buddy?"

One of the cops addressed him over his shoulder and Killian frowned in confusion, not even knowing what a possible answer to that question could be.

"I'm afraid I know not of this 'Bellevue'…"

He saw the cops share another glance and he sighed, shifting his eyes to watch the city flash by outside the window. He had mostly managed to keep interactions to a minimum during his journey to find Emma, partly out of fear of unknowingly doing something that could land him in a sticky situation…like the one he was currently in.

It didn't take long before the car pulled up outside a bustling building and the door was opened for him. He allowed himself to be led inside and was somewhat fascinated by everything going on around him. People openly stared as he walked by, looking him up and down, but he'd become used to that and didn't let it get to him.

Once the cops who had brought him in booked him, he was led to a room where he was told to wait and someone would be in to talk to him. The minutes rolled by and turned into hours, but he waited patiently. No use causing a commotion because then they really would have reason to hold him and he really couldn't afford that time. Instead, he used the time alone to come up with some way, _any_ way, he could get Emma to listen to him.

* * *

Emma's morning run had certainly helped to clear her mind. She had decided to add an extra half hour so had left earlier and headed straight for the park, foregoing her usual coffee stop pre-run. The dreams from the night before had still haunted her when she awoke at 6am, but she was somewhat thankful she'd managed at least a few hours of undisturbed sleep

As she approached her apartment building again, glancing at her watch to check she wasn't late to make Henry's breakfast, she caught sight of a police car pulling away but didn't dwell on it. Police cars weren't exactly a rare thing to see on a New York City street.

Two of the old women from the ground floor apartments were in the hallway as she let herself inside, discussing the 'crazy' that the police had carted off moments earlier. She smiled a little and shook her head. She knew Mrs. Grimshaw spent most of the day sat by her window, hoping for some kind of excitement to unfold outside, and apparently she'd got her wish that morning.

The women greeted her warmly, asking after Henry. They adored her son because he was one of the only kids in the building with a good set of manners, they said. That did make Emma feel kinda proud, she had to admit.

"Oh, and dear, that handsome young man in the pirate outfit who's been hanging around here for the past couple days has finally been removed. They'll probably take him back to Bellevue. In case you were wondering about the commotion outside."

She had to appreciate that their definition of 'commotion' was certainly not the same as hers, but she was stopped in her tracks. He was in that cop car she's just seen? Cold bumps skittered across her arms and she turned back to the two old ladies.

"H-how long was he out there?"

She asked, trying to sound nonchalant and mildly uninterested. Mrs. Grimshaw clicked her teeth and folded her arms.

"Well, I'd say a little over an hour. You left earlier than usual today, right? You're lucky you did, dear. Pretty young thing like you would have caught his attention and he's clearly unstable."

She forced a smile and excused herself, her heart hammering in her chest as she headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time and getting into her apartment as soon as she could, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She frowned a little as she smelled bacon, but she shrugged it off.

Emma was torn. Part of her wanted to go straight over to the police station and get him out of there, and the other part wanted to let the authorities deal with him in whatever way they pleased, as long as it meant he'd be staying out of her life for a little while.

Henry appeared from his bedroom and gave her a wide smile.

"Hey mom, guess what?"

She pushed Hook to the back of her mind as best she could, wiping a hand across her face and walking toward the dining area where Henry stood now, giving her son a smile when what she really wanted to do was hug him to her as tight as she could. But he'd know she was being weird again and she didn't need to get into all that.

"What, kid?"

She smiled, and Henry gestured to the table. He'd laid out their places, with orange juice in place of their usual hot chocolate, and had made pancakes with a side of scrambled eggs and bacon. Emma's eyebrows shot up and she stared in surprise.

"You…made breakfast?"

He nodded proudly and in an exaggerated waiter-pose, he pulled out her chair and gestured for her to sit. She laughed and complied, thanking him graciously and smiling at him as he sat down opposite her.

"It's scaring me how fast you're growing up, kid. I didn't even know you could crack an egg, never mind make…pretty damn good scrambled eggs. _And_ pancakes."

She hummed in appreciation as she took a bite of the scrambled eggs. She'd almost go as far as saying he made a better breakfast than she did. He laughed and set to work on his pancakes, chattering away between bites about his excitement for the weekend. For a moment, Emma forgot about the pirate sat in a jail cell and her crazy dreams keeping her up at night. For a moment, they'd rewound to a few days previous when their life couldn't have been any more normal.

* * *

Once Henry had left for school, Emma busied herself with cleaning and laundry and washing her hair. Anything to keep her mind occupied and prevent it from straying to thoughts of Hook sat in a jail cell. But no matter how she tried, she simply couldn't keep her mind from wandering back to him. She felt a connection to him that she couldn't explain or fully grasp.

Exasperated with herself, she grabbed her keys. The only way she was going to get him out of her head was by talking to him, hearing what he had to say for himself. The way he'd barrelled into her life had certainly been unexpected, but she had to know what he'd so urgently needed her to remember…and find out if it had anything to do with her crazy dreams.

It was supposed to be her relaxing week off work, but instead she was anxiously making her way downtown on a Friday morning, rehearsing in her head what she'd say to him, the ground rules she'd lay down before she allowed him to explain himself.

When she arrived at the precinct, she took a quick breath before pushing open the doors and stepping into the bustle. She couldn't help the shiver that shouldered it's way through her, the knot that formed in her stomach every time she went near this place. It took her back to times in her life she'd much rather forget. The times before Henry had saved her, when she was young and wild and reckless, stealing cars and watches, trying to 'find herself'.

Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her red leather jacket, Emma walked over to the main desk, where a homely-looking middle-aged woman who couldn't have looked anymore jaded sat clicking away on her computer while simultaneously answering a phonecall and filing reports.

_And here we see a NYPD receptionist in her natural habitat_, Emma thought, inwardly smirking to herself. She waited until the woman put down the receiver and raised her eyes.

"Erm…a guy was brought in before-"

"Gonna have to be a bit more specific than that, sugar."

The woman gestured to the bustling department around them, disinterest and bemusement practically radiating from her. Emma frowned. _Well, if you'd let me finish._

"British accent, dark hair, all in leather-"

"Oh, the pirate impersonator? He belong to you? We figured he escaped from Bellevue. So you're posting bail."

Emma gave her a tight-lipped smile and chose not to comment on the fact that she'd thought the exact same thing. She simply nodded and gave the woman her details as she tapped them into the computer, taking the little blue slip the woman then handed her. She pointed in the direction of a bench where several other people were sat, obviously also waiting to bail people out, so Emma headed over and sat awkwardly at the end of the bench, blue slip in her pocket, twisting her fingers together in anticipation.

She could have probably skipped all this if she'd just called into work and asked Angela to pull some strings. After all, bailing people out was literally what she did every day as a bail bondsperson. But she didn't want anyone else knowing about this little…complication that had arrived in her life uninvited. She couldn't even explain why she was bailing him out, really. She didn't even know his name.

Pulling the slip out of her pocket, she looked down at the block letters stating his name. _Killian Jones_. She muttered it out loud, the name so familiar yet so foreign to her. It brought that same feeling she'd been struck with when she opened the door and saw his face just over twenty-four hours earlier.

An hour later, still staring down the blue slip, Emma heard his name being called and her head snapped up. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she stood up and walked over to where a tall blonde guy, very obviously a cop, stood waiting for her.

"You're here to bail out the pirate guy?" he asked and when she nodded, he motioned for her to follow him, "this way. His bail's pretty low seeing as he's in for a misdemeanour and there was no violence involved. Lawyer has said he'll probably be acquitted."

Emma bit her lip to keep from laughing at the irony of it all. She was the one he'd been 'harassing', and here she was bailing him out. If she'd called the cops when she'd threatened to, he'd likely have been charged with assault…and she'd be paying a higher bail rate. Small mercies.

Once she'd paid the bail amount, she waited on a bench where the cop left her. She felt an inexplicable anxiety settle in her stomach, wondering what on earth she'd do now. She'd just bailed him out of jail, she couldn't exactly walk away. Glancing up as the door at the far end of the hallway opened, Emma saw the cop and close behind him, Hook.

When he caught sight of her, his whole face lit up and the knot twisted tighter in her gut, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing up. He was free of handcuffs and the cop gave her a quick nod before leaving them alone in the empty hallway.

"Hook."

She said quietly, standing up to face him. She saw his breath visibly hitch and his eyes searched hers.

"You…remember?"

He asked, his voice tentative and so full of hope that it tore at her heart a little. She shook her head slowly and he visibly deflated, shoulders dropping fractionally and the smile on his face faltering.

"But…you came to get me? I suspected it was you who'd called the police, until I saw you as I was being removed by your enforcers of the law. They seem to believe I'm from a land called Bellevue, but I'm sure I've never been to that place."

Emma couldn't help the laughter that bubbled from her. He was either a really damn good actor, or he'd been living in an era reminiscent of his clothing for the best part of his life. But she found his way of talking oddly endearing and the knot in her stomach had evolved into butterflies that she couldn't quite explain. He had an effect on her that no other man had ever elicited. She wasn't the butterflies-and-dear-diary type, never had been.

He wasn't sure why she was laughing, but seeing the smile he'd dreamed about for over a year was enough to put a smile back on his face. He was fighting the urge to kiss her again, but she'd just sprung him from jail and he was sure she'd put him back in a heartbeat if he tried that again. When she'd said his name, his heart had almost stopped. If she didn't remember, how did she know his name?

"Can we…talk? Maybe get a coffee. But don't try to kiss me again, got it?"

She tried to keep her voice stern, but even she could hear the waver. He nodded and followed her as they walked down the hallway toward the exit.

"Or maybe a hot chocolate with cinnamon?"

She spun around, her eyes wide and he simply smiled knowingly.


	4. Trust

**372 Days**

* * *

**Chapter Four - Trust**

* * *

Starbucks wasn't exactly a place Killian Jones was accustomed to. It wasn't remotely like Granny's and there were a lot of people with those silver boxes of sorcery in front of them, clicking away between sips of their beverages. Charming had once shown him a 'computer', as he'd called it, but Killian was sure he'd never have need for one. Frankly, they perturbed him somewhat.

Emma had chosen them a table at the far back, with as much distance from other patrons as possible. She dropped down into the overly-comfortable lounge chair and sighed, shrugging off her coat.

"Why do all teenage girls in Starbucks think they're Zooey Deschanel?"

She muttered and he simply smiled blankly, not knowing who she was referring to and choosing to let that wash over him. She didn't seem to notice his confusion and took a quick sip of her hot chocolate.

"So, first, I wanna know how you knew about my favorite drink."

She stated, looking straight at him over her drink and he smiled. His offhand comment at the precinct had stuck with her their entire block-walk to the closest Starbucks and when he'd ordered the same thing upon their arrival, she'd watched him carefully. It wasn't just a lucky guess; he'd _known_.

"You and Henry, you both ordered that every time at Granny's. I tried it once and I have to say, Swan, you have great taste."

He smirked and she stared openly at him. He was clearly referring to more than her taste in hot beverages and she wavered.

"For one, I have no idea what _Granny's_ is. Secondly, we don't bring my son into this until you've explained to me exactly who you are and how you know us. And, also...have we had a...thing?"

She didn't want to tell him that she felt connected to him in a way that completely baffled her considering she couldn't remember ever even meeting him, but she needed to know that she wasn't imagining it.

"We had..._something_, lass. Before you left, you gave me reason to believe that we might share the same feelings for one another. And I had dared to hope..."

She saw the mask he wore fracturing a little, revealing raw sorrow and regret that she more than anyone understood and recognized in others. She was very good at detecting lies, and there was nothing false about the emotion he held or the feelings he clearly had for her. But she didn't understand any of it.

Folding her hands into her lap, fingers knotted together, she took a deep breath and prayed she didn't sound too insane as the words began to leave her lips.

"I've had dreams. Crazy, fairytales-on-crack types of dreams that were so vivid and...real. They felt like memories, if that even makes sense?"

The smile that tugged at his lips promised answers.

"It makes more sense than you can possibly know, love. And you're not crazy, they really were memories. I'm here to help you remember, just as I gave your parents my word that I would."

She reeled back, as though he'd burned her with his words, and her expression instinctively hardened a little, her walls protecting her.

"I don't have parents. I've been an orphan my whole life."

Her voice was as hard as her expression and he shook his head vehemently. Her heart skipped a beat but she tried to squash the tiny bit of hope rising inside her.

All she'd ever dreamed of was having parents, but she'd long since given up those dreams she'd had as a little girl, falling asleep in whatever foster home she'd been packed off to, imagining her parents turning up out of the blue and taking her away to a castle with turrets and unicorn figurines in a princess bedroom.

She'd grown up in a world where she knew no one cared about her, where no one fought for her, where no one packed her lunches or helped her with homework. She'd grown up knowing nothing but the true meaning of the word 'alone'. And she had walls as high as the castles from her childhood dreams.

She didn't trust easily, yet she'd trusted this man sat in front of her. She couldn't explain it even if she tried, but there was something about him that got past her walls much more easily than she was comfortable with.

"Believe me, love. Just trust me. I can make you remember."

"Stop calling me 'love'. And why should I trust you when the first time we met, you practically assaulted me on my own doorstep?"

"If you don't trust me, why did you bail me out?"

Their quick back-and-forth ended abruptly as silence settled between them. She was searching for an answer, but she couldn't find one.

"I don't know," she offered weakly, "I hoped you could tell me what my dreams meant. Anyone else would think I'm losing it."

He splayed his hands on the table, his drink untouched before him, and his eyes locked onto hers. She tried to stop her heart from skipping as he kept that intense, impossibly blue gaze fixed on her.

"I can give you answers. But I need you to come with me somewhere and you have to _trust_ me. I would never do a thing to hurt you, Emma. And on that I can give you my word."

She regarded him carefully and, as much as the rational part of her was screaming at her not to be so stupid, she _did_ trust him. And she knew she'd go with him, even if she did keep her keys clenched in her fist inside her jacket, just to be on the safe side.

* * *

"What is this place?"

They'd walked for the best part of an hour across the city, and Emma couldn't believe he used no other mode of transportation. They stopped outside a shabby apartment block and she squinted up at it. It looked strangely familiar, but she brushed it off. It looked like a hundred other apartment blocks in the city, and she could just as easily be remembering one of any number of them that she'd visited for various reasons.

"Where I've been living while searching for you. A...friend offered me his residence while he's...out of town."

He answered and she had a feeling that wasn't the whole story. She'd been a thief for a significant part of her life and she could read people disturbingly well. But she decided to leave that area of interrogation alone for the moment and instead followed him up the flights of stairs he took two at a time.

Emma wondered in passing whether he ever overheated in that heavy leather jacket of his and that momentarily led her thoughts to what he was hiding underneath. The little bit of chest he kept on show, with the fine dust of hair, was most definitely a tease. She quickly shook her thoughts away before they fell too far into the gutter and focused on the stairs.

And then she almost crashed right into him when he stopped at the top of the third flight. He turned and caught her by her shoulders, a smirk quickly following on instinct, and she shrugged him off quickly before he saw the blush creeping over her collar.

Killian jabbed his thumb in the direction of the hallway behind him and fished a set of keys from his pocket as he led the way. Once they reached the apartment, he unlocked the door and opened it, gesturing in a gentlemanly manner.

"After you, m'lady."

She set her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows, giving his a dubious look.

"I don't think so, Casanova. You first."

He shrugged and walked, unfaltering, into the room and she peered round the doorway before following him. Inspecting the room as she closed the door behind her, she didn't see anything particularly out of the ordinary. Just a bachelor pad with a vaguely familiar scent and decor that gave nothing away.

Killian had disappeared around a corner and she followed him cautiously, to find him crouching in front of an open closet, a small wooden chest open on the floor before him.

Folding her arms, Emma frowned and tried to peer over his shoulder. He glanced up at her and shifted in a way of unspoken invitation for her to join him on the floor. She faltered for a moment but sighed and dropped to her knees anyway, looking into the box and staring at the bottle of blue, glowing liquid.

"What the hell is that?"

She demanded, her heart beginning to race. She was starting to think following him to this apartment had been a huge mistake. He obviously heard the edge and waver in her voice and quickly reached for her, but she twisted away from him, shrinking back with an expression of distrust. He hated that expression.

"Emma, please. I gave you my word that I wouldn't hurt you. You _have_ to trust me-"

"I don't _have _to do anything. I don't even know you, or why you brought me here."

She gestured around the room and he smiled sadly, which just confused her further.

"Have a look around. Maybe something in this place will trigger a memory."

She scowled at him and folded her arms again. She wondered if he knew what little sense he was making to her, because it was becoming infuriating. She hadn't asked for him to storm into her life the way he had, and she certainly hadn't asked to be dragged into some sort of detective game of which she had no understanding.

"First you're gonna tell me what the hell that is."

She demanded, pointing at the bubbling blue liquid in the small glass bottle. He gently took it out of the chest and held it out to her, but she was very reluctant to even hold it. Against her better judgement, she took the bottle and stared down at it. At least if she was holding it, she had control of what was done with it, she rationalized.

"I'm giving you that to hold onto. When you trust me enough to realize I'm speaking the truth, you'll drink it," when she stared at him incredulously, he simply smiled, "I won your heart once, Emma, and I _will_ win it again. With good form."

They sat in silence for a few endless moments, Killian's eyes never leaving her face and Emma looking down at the blue liquid and letting his words sink in. How could he have 'won her heart' when she had no memory of even meeting him?

"When are you gonna tell me what all this is about, Killian?"

She asked, her voice softer than she'd intended. When she looked up at him, awaiting an answer, she saw an expression of wonder and pure adoration on the pirate's face and she couldn't understand why that made her fingertips tingle and butterflies take flight in her stomach. She swallowed thickly.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You called me Killian."

"Erm, yeah...that's your name, isn't it?"

He wasn't helping with her confusion and she pushed herself to her feet, carefully making sure to keep the bottle steady. He stood up then too, suddenly so close he could feel the heat radiating from her, and smiled down at her as he replied.

"You've always called me Hook before, even though I'm aware you 'don't remember'. I don't think I ever once heard you call me by my given name. I...like it. My name sounds good on your lips."

She was frozen in his gaze for a few seconds before quickly scrambling to put a few feet of space between them, aware that their proximity was doing far too pleasurable things to her heart and other areas of her anatomy.

"I think it's story time. I want to know everything," she said, making her way back into the other half of the apartment and sitting down on the sofa, waiting for him to join her before adding with a small smile, "And I won't tell you you're crazy until you've told me everything, I promise."


	5. Tabula Rasa

Apologies for the slight delay in updating, I was busy completing the two-shot 'Do You Believe in Magic'! Check that out too, if you feel so inclined! It's another Captain Swan fic.  
I'd just like to say a huge thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, especially those who have reviewed each chapter. You are all the best and I appreciate you guys so darn much! And I love you all so much that I feel I should thank you all by name! So, thank you Revenessa, TashaRose, Lisa1972, aej1085, amandacochnauer, elianaS, Cynnx, gottaLoveLOVE, Kiki1302, Jen and bonbon!  
Enjoy this update! Don't worry, this isn't the final chapter ;)

* * *

**372 Days**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Tabula Rasa**

* * *

Killian told her everything. He left nothing out. He even told her about all the parts he would have rather left out, like the Neal stuff and the almost-getting-killed-by-mermaids. She was doing her best to school her face into a mask of indifference, he could tell, and she was failing miserably. She always had been an open book to him.

He could read the disbelief and weary tedium in her eyes, but he soldiered on. She'd promised not to interrupt him until he'd told her everything, so he was doing his best to make use of the time he'd been given, even though he could tell she thought he was absolutely crazy.

It took the best part of an hour to pour everything out to her, but she kept her word and sat quietly, her hands folded into her lap, lips pursing every now and then as she tried to hold back what he was sure was a beautifully witty and painfully dry sarcastic comment. When he had finally finished, the air around them thick with tension and the truths of forgotten memories, she let out a long sigh. Silence sat between them for endless moments before her voice broke it.

"I don't know how you expect me to believe any of that. None of it's possible. Magic isn't real and I'm an _orphan_, not a lost princess from another realm who's parents are made-up fairytale characters. Maybe if you'd spun me that tale when I was ten years old, I would have believed you, out of sheer desperation and misplaced hope. But I'm not some naïve preteen, Killian. How can you ask me to believe all that?"

He searched her eyes, trying to find any part of her that was second-guessing her words. But she looked away and shook her head. He reached out and took hold of her hand, making her meet his gaze again.

"I'm not asking you to believe in fairytales, Emma. I'm asking you to remember them."

She pulled her hand out of his and stood up, walking over to the window and sighing wearily once more.

"I _remember_ reading Henry fairytales when he was three years old. I _remember_ never having parents to do that for me when _I_ was three years old. What I don't remember is running around Neverland because Peter Pan kidnapped my son, or climbing a beanstalk with you to steal magical beans from a giant. And I certainly don't remember fighting a dragon or battling The Queen of Hearts for a compass...or seeing Neal again."

She started out strong, indignant, but by the end, her voice was wavering and he looked over at her stood staring blankly out of the window. He watched as her shoulders suddenly stiffened and she reached up with a shaky hand to touch the dreamcatcher hanging up beside her.

"W-where did you get this?"

She demanded, spinning around to face him and pointing at the dreamcatcher. Her eyes were shining with tears and she blinked them away furiously. When he didn't answer, she looked around the room wildly.

"Why did you bring me here? Th-this...this is Neal's apartment, isn't it? Did _he_ send you to find me?"

Hook shook his head firmly but she was already storming toward the door. Before she left, she turned an accusing gaze on him.

"I want nothing to do with him and I do not want him to know about Henry. He caused enough hurt in my life, I won't let him hurt my son too. So you can go tell him that whatever fucked up game he's trying to play, sending you to tell me pretty stories, I'm _not_ interested. Stay the hell away from me."

He tried to protest, following her to the door and calling her name down the hallway as he watched her leave. But she ignored him and had disappeared down the stairs before he could even attempt to smooth it over.

_Damn,_ he thought, _that could have perhaps gone better._

Returning to the apartment, he sat wearily on the sofa, shoulders dropped, feeling somewhat disheartened that she'd fought so hard against the memories he was sure she still had locked away somewhere in her head. He'd been so elated to find her that he hadn't fully prepared himself for the possibility that he wouldn't be able to bring her memories back.

But he'd given her parents his word and Killian Jones was a man of honor and good form. When he gave his word, he would do everything in his power to keep it, no matter how many setbacks he had to face or how much he had to fight to win. And Emma was worth fighting for.

* * *

"I told you to stay the hell away from me. What part of that didn't you understand?"

Killian had let her cool down for the night, knowing that if he followed her back to her place straight away, he'd be seriously risking another knee to his nether regions. And he did like to imagine the possibility of having kids one day. If Emma ever actually got her memories back.

So, he'd let her simmer for the rest of Saturday evening and stayed away on Sunday too, carefully piecing together what he could say to her to bring back that tiny amount of trust she'd started to have in him. First, he needed to crush the notion that he was there on behalf of Neal, because nothing could be further from the truth.

"I am _not_ here for Bae-... for Neal. I was never here for him, lass. I know you think the stories I told you are nonsense and that I'm crazy, but-"

"You clearly _are_ crazy if you think I won't have you re-arrested if you don't back off. And this time I'll leave you there."

He held up his hands. He had chosen to visit her on Monday, when he knew Henry would be at school, because rousing her protective maternal instincts would not be the best way to soften her resolve.

"I'm not going to give up on this, love. I'm not going to give up on _you_. I know you believe that everyone you've trusted in your life has betrayed that trust, but not I," he shifted awkwardly and she folded her arms, "You asked if we shared something. You felt a connection between us that you didn't understand, from the moment you opened this door, before I kissed you..."

"I...don't know what I felt. It was an instinct. That I could trust you."

Her voice was much softer than it had been before and she was looking down at the floor now, the hard glare gone from her face. Reluctantly, she pushed open the door and stepped back, leaving him standing in the doorway as she made her way into the apartment, a clear indication of her permission to enter.

The weight on his heart lessened marginally. She hadn't slammed the door in his face. He had another shot. Quickly following her inside, he tried not to let his hopes fly too high.

"What you told me, those stories. I couldn't stop thinking about them...so I Googled them."

She said as he stood silently in the middle of her living room. He stared at her blankly, having idea what 'Googling' was or what it entailed, but she didn't notice and continued, pacing the floor.

"They're pretty different to the fairytales Disney have spun us," she said tersely, "but there's this one guy who has a whole blog dedicated to 'uncovering' Storybrooke. As far as anyone else is concerned, the town you were talking about doesn't exist and never has, but this guy, Greg somebody, he's convinced it's there and hidden by magic. Which is just ridiculous...unless it's not."

Her words were fast and jumbled, and Killian couldn't help but wonder how much sleep she'd actually managed to get in the last two nights. She turned to him then and walked closer.

"I don't _understand_ any of this. It doesn't make sense," her voice was slightly raised and he reached out to touch her arm but she pulled back, shaking her head.

"Don't," she took a shaky breath, "you've come into my life and I didn't ask for any of this. You're telling me that everything I remember, who I think I am and mine and Henry's life, is all a lie."

He felt guilt course through him. As much as he felt nothing but relief and happiness having found her, he was painfully aware that his presence would shatter the carefully constructed life of happy memories Regina had manufactured for them. No part of him felt relief or happiness about that. And if there was any way for her to fulfil her role as the Savior again, to save her family and the Enchanted Forest without destroying her fabricated happiness, well he would more than readily employ that method. But it just wasn't possible.

"If there was another way, Swan-"

"Another way to _what_?! To save the world? I'm not a hero, I wouldn't even know how to be one!"

"But you _are_, and I've believed that since I first met you. I have never once lied to you."

She scoffed and her hands went to her hips, challenging, defensive. The tension between them was becoming thick.

"Do you still have that bottle of blue liquid I gave you?" He asked and she frowned, nodding her head warily, "Well, I dare say it's the time to try that thing called trust, love."

She took a step forward, looking right up into his eyes, so close his breath hitched and he couldn't help but flash back to their shared moment in Neverland. She watched as his pupils dilated, her proximity causing his jaw to tense and his heart to beat that little bit faster.

"Why is it so damn important to you that I trust you?"

Her voice was harsh, her breath touching his lips and making him fight the urge to close the distance.

"Because I love you."

He replied before he could stop himself, is words barely a whisper but as they touched her lips, he caught her sudden intake of breath and waited. The air around them was suffocating and she quickly put some distance back between them. His simple four words lingered around her, echoing in her mind and replaying without permission like a song that was stubbornly stuck in her head. The raw emotion behind his words had rattled her and she hated that Neal had destroyed her ability to handle any declaration of love. It sent her running scared.

He turned his back to her, apparently also trying to come to terms with what had just left his lips. His admission was hanging between them and he couldn't take it back. He hadn't wanted to tell her like that. Without her memories, his admission could mean nothing to her because she couldn't possibly understand or return his feelings. And he wasn't sure his heart could take that.

"I think you should go."

He couldn't bare to meet her gaze as her broken words met his ears, but he could tell there were tears in her eyes. Not trusting his voice, he made for the door without another word.

* * *

It was Friday. A week since he'd first turned up on her doorstep with hope in his eyes and a beating heart, her name falling from his lips like a prayer that had finally been answered. But he hadn't seen her since Monday, when his confession of love had shaken both of their worlds.

He knew he still had his promise to fulfil, to bring her memories back like he'd so adamantly promised her parents he would. But the truth was, he just wasn't sure how long it would be until he could face her again, until he could look into her eyes without feeling his heart shattering inside his chest. She wasn't his Swan and he was painfully aware of that. She was Regina's fake version of what she could have been if fate hadn't stepped in.

Perhaps, he thought, his heart wouldn't be quite so bruised if the real-life Emma hadn't given him a spark of hope right before she left and had her memories wiped clean. Before they knew that she would lose her memories she had, in no uncertain terms, given him permission to love her. And in that way, she'd given herself permission to accept that she was worthy of his love and devotion. That was a huge step for her, he knew. And then it had all been taken away. Tabula rasa, but not for him.

He had barely left the apartment since Monday, and had almost drank himself into a coma twice. She never left his mind though, no matter how much he tried to drink to forget. He was trying to come to terms with the fact that he had to honor his word and come up with some way to return her memories. But he was all out of ideas. She had the blue potion, so it wasn't like he could invite her over and spike her hot chocolate with it.

A knock on the door dragged him out of his thoughts and he stared at the door. He certainly wasn't expecting any visitors and he refused to get his hopes up that she would be stood on the other side of that door.

Dragging himself off the sofa, dressed only in blue striped pyjama pants he'd found in one of Baelfire's drawers. Much more comfortable for drinking himself into oblivion that his leathers.

Pulling the door open, his heart stilled in his chest and his grip on the door handle tightened. Emma was stood in front of him, nervousness radiating from her whole being. He stayed rooted to the spot, again refusing to let hope slip into the cracks of a heart that had seen more damage than any heart should see.

"Swan. To what do I owe this-"

Before he had chance to finish, Emma had stepped forward and pressed her lips to his. In his surprise, it took him a moment to react, but as he arms curled around his neck, he came to life. His whole body was on fire with to touch of her lips and his good hand immediately lifted to tangle in her hair, savoring the the feeling of having her back in his arms. This was all he'd been dreaming of for over a year. But if she was kissing him...

He pulled back suddenly, his hand still in her hair, his eyes searching hers for an explanation. She smiled back at him, her eyes shining.

"That was what my response to you telling me you loved me was supposed to be. If you'd waited til I had my memories back."

He frowned, confused. So she did have her memories back.

"But how...?"

He brought his hand round to run his fingers across her cheek, gazing at her as though he'd never seen anything as beautiful in all his life. He leaned in to steal another kiss before she answered and she laughed softly against his lips, hands gently pushing his bare shoulders.

"It took me five days to convince myself to do it, but I took that potion you gave me. Nothing happened at first, but then I got a blinding headache and tried to sleep it off. When I woke up...all I could think about was getting over here. I remember everything. Henry doesn't, but we'll figure that out."

He nodded, stepping back to let her into the apartment. She glanced around as she walked inside and took her jacket off, noting the empty bottles of rum lined up in front of the window.

"How much have you had tonight?"

She asked pointedly, throwing her jacket onto the back of the sofa and sitting down. He shut the door and joined her, noticing that she was trying hard not to oggle him. He smirked and leaned back, making her task that much harder. She blushed and he was entirely sure he'd never seen anything as pretty as the color on her cheeks in all his three centuries.

"Barely started yet, lass."

She smiled and shuffled closer, nervous but trying to hide it.

"Well I'm glad about that. Because tomorrow we have to figure out how to save my family. But tonight, I just want to feel good."

And with that, she leaned pulled him towards her, kissing him deeply and desperately, pouring into him all the emotions and words she didn't yet know how to say to him. He'd never given up on her. He'd promised that not a day would go by that he wouldn't think of her, and she knew he'd been true to his word. Her kiss said everything from 'I'm sorry' to 'thank you'...to 'I love you too'. And from the way he pressed her back into the sofa, looking deeply into her eyes before returning to her lips, she was sure he understood.


	6. True Love

Apologies for the slow update, I found this chapter particularly challenging to write and fought to bring it all together neatly!  
I hope I've done it justice for you lovely readers.

************_WARNING: YOU HAVE NOW ENTERED THE M-RATED ZONE! Here's yer porn! (and pizza!)_************

* * *

**372 Days**

* * *

**Chapter Six - True Love**

* * *

Emma's head was swimming. She'd had her memories back for just a few hours and if that wasn't enough to throw her all off kilter, then the sensations the pirate on top of her was creating with his lips surely was.

When she'd awoken with her head full of all the memories Regina had taken away, there was no word to describe the feelings and emotions that had coursed through her. Grief, knowing that the normal, happy, balanced life Henry's adoptive mother had given them was surely gone now, but also relief, elation and a grateful warmth that had spread through her whole body.

Hook's words had been ringing in her ears the whole journey over to Neal's apartment, reminding her that her parents were in danger and she needed to step into her Savior role once again. The role she'd been so reluctant to accept had slowly become a part of her, as much as she tried not to dwell too much on her feelings about that.

She'd planned out what she would say to Hook when he opened the door, but as she was walking up the stairs, she realized that this could well be the only chance they'd get to be alone together for the foreseeable future. And the only thing on her mind then was feeling his lips on hers. He'd never given up on her and, though the very thought of it rattled her to the core, she realized that his devotion and unwavering commitment to her wasn't unwelcome...or one-sided.

One of the strongest memories she'd been struck with when she'd awoken was his voice, her last memory before she and Henry left Storybrooke. _Not a day will go by that I won't think of you_. And she knew, without a doubt, that he'd stayed true to his word, as always. He'd consistently remained the only person in her life that had never once let her down or given up on her. The only man who had ever fought for her. And he'd made her feel worthy of the love he offered her so selflessly, not asking for anything in return.

He'd crossed worlds to find her, spent over a year searching a city of almost eight and half million people, with a determination that left her in awe. And all the while, he'd been painfully aware of the fact that she was oblivious to his existence. Even just the thought of him bearing that cross of uncertainty for so long, yet still never giving up on her, made her heart flutter. She wasn't surprised her parents had sent him, because it was clear to everyone that he loved her in the most pure, unselfish way possible.

And now here she was, memories and all, lying on Neal's sofa, with Captain Hook kissing her like she was his last breath. She'd never felt so damn alive. Their first kiss had been explosive and hungry and unplanned, back in Neverland. She'd been feeling _good _and he'd saved her father's life and he was looking at her with a challenging glint in his baby blues. She wasn't one to turn down a challenge and her attraction to him had burned white hot, blinding her and making her act on impulse.

She didn't regret that kiss, nor the attraction that had turned into lust and slowly blossomed until it had become something she couldn't deny had transuded into her heart. And just as she'd been coming to terms with that fact that he'd won her heart, as he said he would, and that she wanted him, as he said she would, they'd been ripped apart by the curse.

But she wanted nothing more than to put the last year to the back of her mind and focus on him, now right in front of her. So she poured everything she had, every emotion and sentiment she didn't know how to articulate with words, into her kiss. He was kissing her back hungrily, as though he'd been parched for a year and had finally found the water he'd been so desperate for.

As his fingers tangled in her hair, a soft groan tumbling from his lips when she shifted underneath him, she pulled back from his kiss and chanced a gaze into his eyes. They were black with desire and she could feel further evidence of that desire pressing insistently against her thigh since changing her position. He was supporting himself with the stump of his left arm against the back of the sofa and she was surprised that his lack of fake-appendage hadn't registered with her until that point. She'd seen his arm without the hook or the fake hand when he'd been in hospital in Storybrooke, and it simply didn't faze her. There were so many more compelling things about him than his disability.

"How about we move this to somewhere a little more comfortable."

She nodded her head toward the bedroom and he practically scrambled up off the sofa. But, ever the gentleman, he held out his hand to pull her up and she obliged. A memory of her hand in his, right before she'd shackled him in the giant's castle and left him there shouting her name, struck her and she looked down at their joined hands.

Hook pulled her flush against him then, his arm wrapping around her waist just the way he had done in that castle. But she wasn't fighting him now, and he was wearing much less clothes than back then. She savored the feeling of being held flush against him and tilted her face up so he could capture her lips in a breathtakingly chaste, gentle kiss. She felt the tingles shudder through her body and ran her hands down his back, letting her nails lightly scrape his skin. He shivered and she felt it, the electricity between them palpable.

Breaking away from him and turning on her heel, she strode toward the bed. Neal's bed. She knew it should feel wrong, but she couldn't bring herself to feel guilt or anguish in any sort of way. It was just a bed. It didn't matter to her who it belonged to, only who she was sharing it with. And it had been so very long since she'd been in bed with anyone, other than Henry when he'd had a particularly vivid nightmare a couple weeks back but she was entirely sure that didn't count.

Pulling off her tank top in one swift movement, she quickly unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied them off. Glancing back, she saw Hook was stood leaning against the wall that separated the living room from the bedroom. His gaze was softer than she'd ever seen it before and she coudn't help the blush that colored rose on her cheeks. He was looking at her as though she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever encountered in all of his three hundred years.

"Stop staring, I'm sure you've seen a woman in her bra and panties before, Hook."

She chastised, folding her arms across her chest self-consciously. He shook his head with a smile and walked closer, his eyes drinking her in and making her heart race. He looked like he wanted to devour her and she wasn't about to complain.

"You're beautiful, Emma. So beautiful."

He trailed his fingers from her bare shoulder down her arm, leaving cold bumps in his wake and making her legs weak with the soft notes of his lilting voice, no more than a whisper from his lips.

"Kiss me, Hook."

She murmured and he gladly obliged, gently guiding her to the bed as the passion of their kiss intensified. For long moments, they simply kissed and groped as though they were high schoolers left alone in her bedroom for the first time. But soon, it just wasn't enough to satisfy either of them and she tugged at his pyjama pants insistently, breaking their kiss and breathing heavily, heart racing with the heady euphoria of anticipation.

Killian whipped off the pants quickly and smirked when he saw her eyes widen a little. He was bigger than she'd expected, the leather he wore clearly kept things...in place very well. But it was his turn to be surprised when she pushed him roughly so he was lying back on the pillows.

Propping himself up, he watched her with hungry eyes as she moved up the bed towards him. He was sure he'd never seen such an alluring, damning sight in all his life. She looked like the picture of innocence, big green eyes gazing at him from under long lashes, blonde hair falling over her shoulders. But at the same time those eyes screamed nothing but sex and the way her body moved slowly over his, her teeth grazing over her bottom lip, he was sure he could come undone just from the way she was looking at him.

"Gods...you're a bloody siren, Swan."

He gritted out, his jaw clenched as he tried to fight the urge to simply flip her over and take her fast and hard. But he wanted this to last, wanted to revel in every sensation she created and experience every second of being with her. Because there was no guarantee, he knew, that they'd have this chance again for a long while. Not once they were back playing heroes. So tonight they'd take it slow, they'd make love until they were both completely sated and the sun was rising on a day neither of them was prepared for. They'd revel in every second of the good moments.

She kissed his neck, her tongue swirling against the sensitive skin and making something between a sigh and a groan pass his lips, his head falling back against the headboard for a moment. Then her fingers trailed ahead of her lips, both slowly marking a path down his chest, until she was kneeling between his knees, a wicked smile on her lips and her nails gently grazing his thighs, making his stomach drop with pleasure as he lifted his head again to watch her.

Leaning down, she kissed each thigh, dragging out his torture, before placing a kiss on the tip of him, her tongue darting out to tease and he couldn't breathe. Her eyes never left his as she dragged her tongue down the length of him and his good hand clutched at the bedsheets. He couldn't help but wonder if this was her real superpower, never mind her whole lie detector thing.

When she lowered her mouth over him, enveloping him in warmth and making him groan loudly as he pressed against the back of her throat repeatedly with her smooth movements, he shuddered and stuttered out her name in a choked whimper.

"E-Emma...darling. You keep doing those wonderful things with that pretty mouth of yours and I'm going to lose my ability to talk or do almost anything else rather quickly. I want this to last."

She smiled and nodded, understanding that it had probably been a lot longer for him than it had for her, considering the amount of years he had on her. She moved back up his body, straddling his hips and gently running her fingers over the hair on his chest. He reached up and toyed with the black lace fabric of her bra, a small frown on his face.

"I'm somewhat unfamiliar with corsetry in this world."

He commented and she couldn't help the laugh that fell from her lips. She remembered his wonder and amazement, punctuated by distrust, when coming across cars and television and cell phones in Storybrooke. It had become somewhat annoying and frustrating to her, having to explain modern technology to the pirate, but it had never ceased to be a little amusing. She hadn't imagined a bra could provide him with the same level of confusion as a television.

"Believe me, even men of this world struggle with it."

And in one quick movement, she'd reached behind her and unhooked her bra, discarding it carelessly on the floor. He swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off her, sliding his hand up her thigh before grasping her hip. Shifting beneath her, in one quick movement he'd switched their positions and stolen her breath.

His lost girl, a fading memory he'd clung to for so long, his angel of salvation, was lying beneath him with her halo all off-kilter. Hair fanned out on the pillow, the ethereal beauty of her hypnotized him momentarily and she smiled up at him, eyes shining and her whole body seeming to glow.

Turning his gaze to her newly-exposed breasts, he leaned down and kissed each one, revelling in the effect such a simple action had on her. In the same way she had tortured him with her tongue, he twirled his over her nipple and grinned when she arched her back slightly. Sucking gently, he grazed his teeth over her before continuing down her body, kissing across the flat plane of her stomach before reaching the part of her he was most looking forward to tasting.

He could hear her breathing was rapid and shallow just from the anticipation of what he was planning and he didn't help matters by taking her panties in his teeth to remove them. She helped him and once they were discarded, he wasted no time in settling back down, nipping at her thighs, feeling her muscles clench at his touch.

She was watching him with hooded eyes, the desire he was eliciting obvious in the flush on her cheeks and over her chest. She'd never had a man take so much time and administer so much tenderness in creating pleasure just for her. It was dizzying.

Deciding he'd tormented her enough, he pressed a firm kiss against her center and she gasped, bucking beneath him at the sudden, anticipated contact, her eyes squeezing shut. He continued his attentions until wave after wave of pleasure was cascading over her and she was gasping for breath, whimpering his name as her stomach muscles contracted with each swirl of his tongue.

"H-Hook...I'm gonna..."

"I want to watch you come undone for me, Emma."

He murmured, taking in every beautiful detail of her as she lost it, head thrashing, hair tangled, soft, insistent moans falling from her lips as her whole body shook and shivered. As the shudders of her climax began to subside, he twisted one finger, then two, inside her and she cried out loudly, a string of expletives accompanying her moans, and she was on the brink again, barely able to suck air into her lungs. She was seeing stars and she wondered briefly if it was possible to die from an overdose of pleasure, because that was surely what he was administering.

"I've n-never felt anything like that before."

She stuttered, her voice shaking as much as her legs. She was sure she wasn't going to be able to stand up by the time he'd finished with her. She was wrecked just from his tongue and two fingers.

"I distinctly recall saying that you'll feel it when I jab you with my sword. I'm a man of my word, love. And that was just the beginning of the pleasure I plan to give you."

Moving back up to claim her lips in a searing kiss, she could taste herself on his lips and the very thought of that would have disgusted her at one point. But now, tasting herself mixed with rum and the distinct taste of him, it was nothing but erotic and she bit gently on his lower lip.

"I'd like you to jab me with that sword of yours now then, Captain."

She purred against his lips and felt him smirk. He took hold of each knee in turn with his good hand and gently pushed them to the side, moving back onto his knees and once again admiring the angelic beauty of her laid out before him. No matter how many dreams he'd had, the reality of her far surpassed anything his imagination could come up with.

Aligning himself, he saw that she was holding her breath and paused.

"Emma, I won't hurt you. Ever."

She knew he was talking about more than just the sex and her eyes lifted to meet his. She could read sincerity and tenderness and love...and none of that scared her.

"I know. I trust you."

She whispered and bit her lip. Pushing her hips down, she could feel him pressing against her as her whole body buzzed with the desire for him to complete her, finally.

He took the hint and gripped her hip, slowly sinking into her. His head fell back and he groaned loudly, Emma's moans in perfect harmony, as pleasure and a sense of complete and utter belonging made them both dizzy. He stilled inside her and let her adjust to his size, but pretty soon she was bucking her hips and begging him softly to move, so he complied and began a slow, steady rhythm that burned them both up from the inside out.

She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, locking her ankles and arching her back as wave after wave of pleasure crashed down on her. It had been so long for both of them and she could feel the coil of fire low in her belly, threatening to explode with every thrust.

He was getting faster and harder, complying with her breathy requests, and she pushed herself up onto her elbows, a fine layer of sweat shining on both of their bodies. She reached up to grab his shoulders and, keeping her ankles locked behind his back, she hoisted herself up so that she was pressed flush against him, her breasts on level with his lips, which he immediately took advantage of. The delicious friction between them made them both struggle to breathe.

Emma's muscles burned but she wasn't sure if it was pleasure or pain, the sensations rushing through her setting every nerve on fire. She just knew that she never wanted it to end, high on endorphins and lust, but she could feel the fire in her belly about to explode and knew he wouldn't be far behind her by the sound of his soft groans and gasps.

Digging her nails into the firm muscles of his shoulders, she softly lowered herself back onto the bed but he never missed a beat, fingers gently grazing her hip as he slowed their pace a little. He wanted it to last just as much as she did. Leaning down over her, Killian captured her lips and kissed her deeply, loving the feeling of her wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him closer.

A few more strokes and she was coming apart beneath him once again, but this time the feeling of her inner muscles fluttering around him as she cried out his name over and over again, punctuating it with moans and the occasional "oh fuck...oh God" was enough to push him over the edge and he spilled himself inside her with one final hard thrust. Her name tumbled from his lips on a whisper as he became nothing but a mess of sensation and electrifying pleasure.

As they both floated back down to earth, breathing hard and covered in sweat, Killian rolled off her and they lay side by side, bodies numb and buzzing with the aftershocks of an earth-shattering union. She knew he'd be good, but she hadn't expected him to be quite such a giving lover, invested so much in drawing out her pleasure and driving her into ecstasy repeatedly. And he was fully sated, blissful in the afterglow and in awe of just how much she had surpassed every expectation and dream he'd had of her, of them, of this night.

Rolling onto his side to face her, Killian reached over and tenderly brushed a strand of blonde hair away from her face. She turned her head to look into his eyes then and simply smiled.

"We should probably shower."

She said, her voice husky and unintentionally sultry. He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she rolled her eyes with a smile and a short laugh.

"You want to go again already, love? I may need a couple of minutes to recover."

He joked, leaning over to kiss her softly, fingers grazing over her cheek and sliding down her neck. He felt her shiver and pulled her closer to him, wanting to keep her body close, which was cold and damp with sweat, the same as his own. Perhaps a hot shower was indeed a good idea.

After a few minutes wrapped contentedly in his embrace, Emma sighed and placed a kiss against his collarbone.

"I'm gonna go turn on the shower. I'll get the water hot, then you can get me hot. Again."

She smirked at the incredulous, wide-eyed stare he wore, slipping out of his arms and making her way toward the bathroom, well aware of his smouldering gaze on her ass as she moved. Glancing over her shoulder at him when she reached the bathroom door, she gave him a wicked grin before disappearing inside.

Killian lay back against the pillows, a contented sigh passing his lips, unable to wipe the smile off his face. A small part of him was still convinced it was all a dream and that he was surely about to wake up any second, alone with a half a dozen empty rum bottles scattered around him.

She was too good to be true and had far surpassed anything his imagination had created. The reality of feeling her soft skin under his fingertips, of trailing his hand across the pale, smooth expanse of her toned stomach and being completely enamoured by the intoxicating taste of her lingering on his lips...it was enough to make him wonder if he'd died and gone to heaven. But Emma's voice calling to him from the bathroom broke him out of his trance and without hesitation he made his way in to her.

* * *

After a brief but eventful shower together, both enjoying the massaging warmth of the shower and further chance to explore one another, Emma dug out an old t-shirt from one of the drawers and pulled it on, choosing not to dwell on the fact that it was one of Neal's shirts. Somehow, she was sure sleeping in Killian's leather vest wouldn't be the most comfortable option and she wasn't planning on driving across the city just for an oversized shirt of her own. Neal's shirt would have to suffice.

She glanced over at Killian and couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips as she watched him leisurely walking out of the bathroom, completely comfortable in his nakedness. And she had to admit, with a body like his, she wasn't surprised that he was quite happy to saunter across the room without a stitch on. He was practically a God, and she was quite certain that wasn't an exaggeration. The fact that he was missing his left forearm barely even registered with her now.

The dusting of hair over his chest, leading down across the delectably defined lines of his stomach and reaching what was fast becoming her second favorite part of him...she couldn't get enough. His eyes would always be her favorite feature of his though. Her tongue swept across her lips and it was then Emma realized that she was openly eye-fucking him. Dragging her gaze upwards, she met his eyes and could feel the furious blush coloring her cheeks as he smirked at her.

"Like what you see, love?"

He teased and she rolled her eyes, despite the smile on her lips. She turned then and wandered into the adjoining room, seeking out a refrigerator or anything remotely edible. Their 'activities' had left her famished and she was sure three Twinkie bars, a carton of milk and a can of tomato soup wasn't going to feed the two of them.

Grabbing her jacket from the sofa, she retrieved her cell phone and pressed the speed dial button for her and Henry's favorite pizza place. Friday night had been their 'Takeout Night' and she realized sadly that all their little traditions would probably be pushed aside and forgotten once Henry had his memory back too. Right now, she was the only mom he'd ever known, but soon, once his memories had been returned too, there was a chance he'd call her 'Emma' again instead of 'mom' and she wasn't sure she was ready for that.

Snapping back to reality, she realized that the pizza place guy had picked up the phone and was impatiently repeating "Hello?!" so she apologized and hurriedly placed her order. Hanging up, she returned to the bedroom and found Killian lying on the bed in the blue striped pyjama pants, arms behind his head and an inquisitive smile on his face.

"Who were you talking to, love?"

He asked and she crawled up the bed towards him, watching his pupils dilate instantly. She was sure she would always get a thrill from that. Dropping down next to him and resting her head on the crook of his shoulder, she draped an arm across his bare chest.

"Well, you've apparently been surviving off Twinkies and soup since you got here, so I decided to order us some pizza, give us our strength back."

"That would be lovely, if I knew was pizza was, lass."

Emma bolted upright and stared at him in open-mouthed shock.

"You've been to New York _twice_ now and you've never tasted the pizza? Well, I'm not gonna be the only one you're getting pleasure from tonight then."

He looked mildly confused but very intrigued. So, thirty minutes later, when Emma paid the delivery boy and carried the box of pizza through the bedroom, a triumphant smile on her face, he knew he was in for a treat. It smelled delicious, he'd give her that much.

She set the box down between them once she'd settled next to him and opened it. To Emma, the smell of pizza and the constant lull of traffic were the very essence of the city she'd come to love. She'd had a year's worth of untainted, happy memories with Henry in this city and the thought of leaving it behind to take up her role as savior again made a subtle stirring of dread settle in the pit of her stomach. Shaking her head, she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and decided that, for this one last night, she would completely lose herself in the good moments. And seeing Hook take his first bite of New York pizza was definitely going to be counted as a good moment.

His eyes fell shut and he let out a soft hum of appreciation. The look of bliss on his face made her laugh and he opened his eyes to meet hers.

"This is my favorite pizza."

She said with a smile, breaking off her first slice. He nodded slowly in response, reaching for another piece. She wasn't surprised he was starving after living on Twinkie bars for weeks. The pair sat in silence for long minutes, quietly lost in their own thoughts and their enjoyment of the delicious pie. Glancing at the alarm clock on the end table, Emma's eyes widened and she scrambled for her cell phone. Henry.

"Sophia! I am _so_ sorry I'm not back already, I completely lost track of time...yeah...are you sure? That would be _great_, thank you so much. You're a life saver, I owe you...okay, I'll catch you tomorrow."

Killian watched her carefully, the tension in her shoulders gradually easing through her conversation as she sat on the edge of the bed, cellphone cradled between her ear and shoulder, one leg tucked underneath her with the flimsy cotton shirt she wore riding up high on her thighs. He loved watching her, taking in every detail. The way her hair fell loosely in soft golden waves down her back, tucked behind one ear so he could admire her profile, the sharp yet delicate features, the way her lips turned every so slightly downwards and pressed into a thin line when she was pensive. He could simply sit and stare at her for days and still be mesmerized.

He only got one side of the conversation, but he figured the problem had been sorted out by the way the tension had all-but disappeared from her as quickly as it had appeared. She turned back to him then and smiled.

"Our neighbor was watching Henry for me tonight and I said I'd be back over an hour ago...guess you distracted me," he gave her a winning smile and she shook her head, "But she said he can go stay with them tonight. She has twins Henry's age and they get on well so Henry's more than happy to have a sleepover there. I can't believe it's after 11."

"Aye, love. We've had certain pleasurable activities distracting us. It's a bloody shame we only have tonight."

She could easily read the resolute sadness softening his eyes as he avoided her gaze and she felt a stab of that same sadness in her own heart. Moving across the bed so that she was kneeling beside him, she leaned down and kissed him so gently that it stole the air from both of them.

"Tonight may be the only time we can be together without worrying about anything else...but this isn't the only night we'll have together. This _isn't_ a one time thing."

And just like that, she saw that bright spark of hope reflected back at her in his eyes. He'd never lost hope, and his belief in her had never faltered. But it had all been on her terms. He'd laid out his feelings for her, even when he knew she had no memory of him, he'd tried True Love's Kiss on her because of the strength and depth of those feelings, yet he'd left every choice to her. He hadn't made decisions for her, hadn't favored whatever 'greater good' came along, and he had proved time and again that he was in it for the long haul, that he was there for her in whatever role she wanted him to be. He was the first person in her life who had put her feelings first.

She had grown up alone, believing she was completely unwanted, not fitting in anywhere, because her parents had tried to give her what they had truly believed, with all their hearts, was her 'best chance'. She'd had a brutally lonely, empty childhood because they'd tried to save her, so that she could, in turn, save them.

August had promised to protect and guide her, but he had abandoned her before she was even old enough to realize it. And he'd easily convinced Neal that he should do the same, all so she would fulfil her 'destiny'. A destiny she hadn't chosen or wanted.

Neal had loved her, in his own way, but when it had come down to it, he'd walked away and chosen her path for her. He'd left her alone in the world, again. He'd chosen to let her take the fall for his crime and go to prison, rather than fighting for her and having to face his father again. He'd agreed for her so-called destiny to overshadow her feelings.

Everyone had always made decisions for her, except for him. Killian Jones, a pirate who had carried nothing but vengeance in his heart for three centuries, had done absolutely everything in his power to put her first. He had protected her, without asking for anything in return...okay, apart from that one time, but she'd been the one to take his challenge, to initiate that kiss, and by his surprise she was sure he hadn't expected her to do it. It had been _her_ decision.

And here she was, lying next to a man who had given up three lifetimes' worth of vengeance for her, because the love he had in his heart for her had outweighed the hatred he had been consumed by and allowed him to move on from his first love. And through it all, he had never pressured her into returning his feelings, or expected anything from her. He loved her so selflessly, so unconditionally and completely that he had allied himself with the man he'd sworn to kill, all to save her son and help her.

She didn't even know how "thank you" could ever come close to being enough. He'd travelled across realms to find her and the look on his face when she'd opened the door was still imprinted on her memory, but instead of the confusion and a niggling familiarity she'd felt upon seeing him without her memories in-tact, she felt a rush of pure happiness and relief.

Shifting so that she rested her head on the shoulder of his bad arm, she lay on her side, breathing him in as her eyes fluttered closed. He was lying facing her, idly tracing patterns on her thigh as her shirt rode up to her hip. They were both quietly wishing they could make their night together last forever, but exhaustion was fast creeping up on both of them and when a soft sigh fell from Emma's lips, Killian reached down and pulled the bed sheets over them both.

"You kissed me."

She mumbled and Killian chuckled, tenderly brushing stray strands of hair off her face.

"I assure you I did much more than that, darling."

She smiled and her eyes fluttered open, shooting him a lightly withering glare.

"I mean, when you first showed up on my doorstep. You kissed me and you said it was a long shot but that you had to try and...you'd hoped I felt as you did. I played those words over in my head so many times trying to figure out what you meant...and then, when my memories came back, I realized. You kissed me to try and make me remember. You believed that..."

She paused, her voice soft and barely more than a whisper, all evidence of sleep gone from her face as she kept her eyes locked on his. He looked back at her earnestly.

"That you are my True Love, Emma Swan."

He finished for her and she felt the tears prick her eyes. Blinking them back, she could do nothing but stare at him. If there was anything she'd learned from her time surrounded by storybook-characters-come-to-life, it was the difference between love and True Love. It was one thing for him to tell her he loved her, but it was a whole other thing entirely for him to travel across realms and plant one on her with the belief that his kiss could reverse Regina's curse, that his kiss could return all the memories that powerful curse had taken away.

"Your father told me True Love's Kiss doesn't work if one has no memory of the other, that he tried it on your mother when she was under a memory curse and she didn't hesitate in knocking him on his arse. But I had to try. When I saw you, after searching for so long, the only thing I wanted to do was taste your kiss again. And I do believe with all my heart that you are my True Love, Swan."

At her shocked silence, he placed a feather-light kiss on her lips with a smile. She was wrecked by his admission, her heart beating furiously as he continued.

"And I hoped that I was yours. I hoped that you felt as I did."

He added, words touching her lips like a wish. She reached up and cupped his cheek, her eyes shining, voice broken with emotions.

"I do."


End file.
